Hair Dye
by Fudgyokra
Summary: Zoey and Duncan have their first dispute.


**Hair Dye**

**A/N: **The end of this is shitty. The whole thing is probably shitty. But I wanted to write some Doey, so here we are.

* * *

It took place in the buzzing heat of summer, on the dilapidated gray carpeting in the living room of Duncan's trailer. The electric fan was vibrating on high and the tiny TV, albeit practically un-viewable past the giant glare from the sun, was turned to a show that Duncan had been squinting at for some time now but not really paying attention to. This acted as the scene for the couple's very first argument.

Zoey, sitting in a side-saddle position in the middle of the floor, thumbed through the magazine she held until she reached a poll page that caught her attention: _Natural Hair vs. Dyed Hair – Which do YOU think is sexier?_

She regarded her boyfriend with a knowing smile and a tone to match when she asked, "Duncan, what do you think is sexier? Dyed hair or natural?"

The boy in question paused in his inattentive squinting to look at her. "Huh?"

"This poll says that seventy percent of women prefer natural hair on men to dyed."

Duncan scoffed. "Oh, yeah? Well I guess you're not in the seventy percent."

"What if I am?" she teased, rolling the magazine up and pointing it at him.

"I'd be so happy you agree with me."

"Oh, shut up."

"You know I'm kidding, babe." His voice tapered to a flat tone as he transitioned from actively participating in the conversation to getting distracted by something on his phone. There was a moment of silence after that, during which Zoey reopened the magazine and boredly flipped through it one more time. When she'd finished, she set it on the floor, smoothed her hands over her plaid circle skirt, and broke the silence.

"Hey, Duncan, what's your real hair color?"

Without missing a beat, the boy replied, "You'll never find out."

"I'll tell you mine."

"Don't care."

Zoey's red lips curled into a pout. "C'mon, it's not like it's some deep, dark secret."

Duncan made a face. Zoey's eyebrows knitted together. "It's not…is it?"

"It's not something I think is interesting enough to share." There was a break between this statement and his following one, which he delivered with a microscopically curious tone. "In fact, why do you care so much?"

"I just wanted to know, is all." The fact that her words suddenly became slightly snarky put an edge to Duncan's voice as well.

"It's not like it's interesting."

"I think so."

"Good for you."

"Y'know, if you'd actually let me meet your parents, I would know your hair color."

"Shit, not this again. Is _that_ what this is about?" Duncan stood, watching with a glower as Zoey did the same.

"It _wasn't_. But don't act like that isn't important, either."

"It's _not, _Zoey."

"I bet they're fine!"

"Oh you do? Well, newsflash, they aren't fine. None of us have ever been fine."

"That makes no sense!" Zoey's arms crossed in a flurry of skin and clanking bangle bracelets. "You act like your family is poisonous."

"My dad's a shithead alcoholic, my mom's a wreck, my brother's a jerk, and every uncle I've ever met was a broke scumbag that breathed smoke in my face and told me they were just like me at my age."

"Forget your uncles! They don't know anything." The girl huffed. "I'm not asking to meet your brother, either. I just want to meet your parents, even if I only get to once."

"They're shit parents and shit people, okay? I'm not letting you get into it with them."

"Get into it? You think I'm going to argue with them?" Zoey's voice took a sharp upward turn in pitch, then relaxed again for her continuation. "What's your problem? I want to meet your family because I love you, you idiot." Her lip trembled, and immediately Duncan went into "crying girlfriend mode"—meaning he rolled his eyes, stepped closer to her, and offered her a hug like it pained him to do so when, really, it didn't.

The moment she stepped into the embrace, she relaxed a little. Duncan sighed. "Listen, I don't want you to meet them because I don't want you to think… I dunno, that I'm like them or whatever. I'm not like either of them. Dad's an asshole, so I definitely don't want you to have to see that."

Zoey swallowed hard. "Okay, fine. I understand."

One more sigh later and Duncan was beginning to regret words he hadn't even spoken yet. "All right, you wanna meet my mom?" The girl nodded into his shirt, so he concluded with, "She'll be off work tonight at nine. I'll introduce you."

At that, Zoey backed out of the hug and smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah, whatever."

The smile grew until it couldn't any more, and that was when Zoey grabbed the other's face and pressed her lips against his. When she pulled back, the lipstick stain left behind sent her into a fit of giggles that Duncan couldn't help but smile affectionately at, if only for a second. When that passed, their dialogue came to a halt, rendering the fan's buzzing and the TV's low chattering the only sounds in the room.

A slight breeze rustled the curtains above the kitchen sink, which both of them turned their attention to. Duncan was the first to comment. "Damn, I think that's the first time the wind has blown through this ungodly heat all day."

"I swear I was just thinking the same thing." Zoey laughed once, still absently staring at the window, even when Duncan's eyes had landed back on her.

"Zoey."

"Hm?" Her eyes fluttered as she was pulled back from her moment of blankness.

He mumbled something, and when prompted to speak up, he took up half-heartedly glaring at the wall. "I'm blond," he repeated.

"Woah, seriously?" Zoey's eyes lit up. "That's cool! Me too!"

Duncan snorted in some semblance of a laugh. "I know, dummy."

She was puzzled for a moment, touching her roots with the tips of her fingers. "How?"

"I borrowed a ten from your wallet and—"

"_That's _where that went…"

"—Found a picture of you when you were little."

"Oh…" Zoey's face reddened. "Right, I forgot I still had that."

"No you didn't, you narcissist."

At that, she laughed. "I was cute!"

He grinned at her. "Yeah you were."

"Are you saying I'm not anymore?" She joked.

As usual, he returned with his own quip of, "That's exactly what I'm saying," earning him a fake glare and a light slap on the shoulder.

"So I really do get to meet your mom?"

"Whatever you want, babe. Only for you."


End file.
